Patrick Carroll | Stories
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The False Knight

The False Knight Mr. Hanevy had never liked his daughter, she having been a different class of hypocrite to himself.  They had possessed nothing in common but her mother and his wife, and that maddeningly patient woman never managed to be any kind of hypocrite, although she lied a good deal during her life.  He had been decently sorry when the...

A Peculiar People

A Peculiar People Maurice Job Scott Wyke ran a finger through the drying foam on the side of his glass and gazed up at the arc of wrought iron projecting between the double doors and grimy transom of a North London public bar.  Heavy drapes had once hung there, enveloping drunks and people whose glasses had fogged up in the cold....

Philly The Voice

But what I like is a nice sausage sandwich; the sweet sausage with a lot of peppers and onions.  So I’m gonna to stop at the Golden Pizza on my way down the Feast.  The Saint’s Day’s the same as my birthday and the Feast always ends on the Sunday after.  This year they both fall on a Friday and...

The Mason’s Coin

      Charl found the silver box under a window seat.  The object was small and delicate; no more than three inches square and two deep, with a faded blue ribbon around it, tied in an elaborate bow.  It had a floral design etched into its hinged top and the fine, curling tracery was tarnished black.  The young tradesman looked at...

Blake’s Room

The room was nothing, which suited Blake.  It was small without being cramped, bare without being mean and tasteless in that no taste, good, bad or bizarre had been used on its space.  The divan, armchair, two straight-chairs and gate-leg table were simply the accumulation of cast-offs from other rooms.  In contrast stood a dour Victorian desk-bureau; the property of...